Allowing Yourself to Grieve
by mimithereader
Summary: Prompt: something with Chris Argent and Derek? Shippy or platonic is fine but I just need Derek comforting Chris about Allison cause he also lost his whole family or at least thought he had...


"Derek," Chris said curtly upon opening his door to see the other man standing there. "What can I do for you?"

Shaking his head, Derek responded, "Actually I was thinking I might be able to do something for _you_."

Chris raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. Sure, he had said that he and Derek were no longer enemies – and he meant it – but that didn't mean they were exactly _friends_.

"Look, I appreciate your concern, Derek," Chris began, knowing _exactly_ why Derek was there.

And, by god, Chris was not up for this. Not up for hearing the useless platitudes, the pointless reassurances, and words of comfort that really only served to comfort the person _saying_ them. Chris didn't want to hear people say what a wonderful daughter he has – _had_. Not from Derek, not from anyone.

"Let me in. Let me help. Please."

And that last word, that _please_, is the only thing that stopped Chris from slamming the door in Derek's face. But Derek didn't do things like this, didn't say things like _please_, and Chris was sure of that. Hesitantly still, Chris took a step back and opened the door wide enough to allow Derek to enter.

"I know you want to help, Derek," Chris said, shaking his head again. "And I really do appreciate that, but I'm not sure you can."

Derek stared at him with wide eyes that held such strong emotion, such tangible sadness, that he was tempted to look away. But Chris was trained to maintain eye contact, even in the worst of situations, so he stared on, gaze perhaps a little too much like a glare.

"I can try."

Derek's answer was simple, nearly childlike in its earnestness. But ultimately it was impractical. There was nothing Derek could say, nothing he could _do_

"Again, I appreciate the offer but it's unnecessary. I've done this before, Derek."

"Not when it's your _daughter_."

Chris pauses at the mention of Allison before responding, "No. But I have lost people."

"So have I."

"This isn't new to me," Chris said, resolve shaking.

"Me either."

"And, God, it hurts."

"It always does."

"_Exactly_. It _always_ does. These things happen. I'll keep moving on. I have to," Chris affirmed resolutely, standing a little straighter.

"You know it's not that easy."

"Argents are trained from a young age to compartmentalize their emotions. We continue." He paused. "We survive."

"This is different," Derek argued, shaking his head.

"It's not."

"You loved her."

"I – I've loved and lost before."

"Yeah, but this – _Allison_ – is different."

"_She_ is; the situation's not," Chris said, trying to reign in his anger.

"You can't _compartmentalize_ the death of your own _daughter_! It doesn't matter what you're twisted fuck of a father raised you to believe!"

Slightly shocked and trying to resist the urge to scream back, Chris, with a practiced and forced calm, responded, "You don't understand."

There was silence for a couple long minutes as the two obviously upset men glared each other down, anger and frustration roiling just beneath their skin.

"I was 16," Derek forced out tersely, breaking the silence and looking at the ground.

"I'm sorry," Chris said, watching Derek carefully.

"It wasn't you."

"It was my sister."

"Exactly, it wasn't _you_."

Derek looked back up at Chris, receiving only a nod in response.

"I know how hard this is, okay? Believe me you can't just move on," Derek tried again, seeing Chris still staring at him intently, but not with understanding.

And that, that pissed Derek off. Why couldn't he _get it_? His daughter is _gone!_ _Dead_. And he thinks he can just _move on?_

Letting his anger burst to the surface, Derek yelled, "This isn't going to _work!_ You're not going to just wake up one day and it'll somehow hurt less! You're not going to just fucking magically not feel like you're entire goddamn world has collapsed around you!" He paused briefly, noting Chris's shock, before gritting out, "_That's. Not. How. This. Fucking. Works._"

Watching Derek become damn near hysteric, Chris took a second to really evaluate his appearance for the first time. Derek was muscular, completely built, but the way he hunched his shoulders, curling in on himself, made him seem much smaller. He looked the part of a man, but he didn't hold himself like one.

"Is that how it is for you?" Chris asked, voice bordering on gentle.

When Derek turned his sad eyes on Chris once again he was suddenly struck by the realization that Derek _wasn't_ a man, not really. His childhood had been ripped away from him in the most vicious way possible before he had the chance to outgrow it. Derek never got the opportunity to become an adult. He never had anyone to show him the ropes, show him what it means to be a man, because everyone who could have fulfilled that role was burned alive.

Derek's anger dissipates and he just deflates, bending even more into himself.

Derek was still just a _kid_. He wasn't much older than Allison. Chris couldn't help but think of all the things his daughter would never get to experience, torn away from life before she actually had the chance to live it.

It's this thought that has him crossing the room to pull Derek into a tight hug that is more than likely painful, even for a werewolf.

Just this once, Chris thinks, he can allow himself to grieve.


End file.
